Genesis
by JSMac
Summary: Link, in the year 2524 AD, has had to move planets after a tragic run-in with Gerudo Marauders. He feels insignificant now with his parents gone, his friends left behind, and only his older brother to cling to. Little does he know that the Marauders were only the first of his challenges; he will soon find himself in a violent civil war of which he is the fulcrum.
1. Pancakes

"Wake up, Link." The voice was loud, yet distant. It came from somewhere outside the crude metal walls in which Link was imprisoned. He swallowed the blood in his mouth and, painfully, turned his face toward the ceiling. The shadows of his oppressors were stirring in his peripherals. He felt panic rising inside him.

"Link." The voice was soft and sensitive, yet blown to garish proportions in the vacillating state of Link's perception. He felt the images fade, making way for a more earthly setting. He felt the panic ease with the brief emergence. Still, it was not enough. He now saw himself, his body thin, his hands in manacles on the wall, his knees scraped, his eyes glassy, his lips shining red. He saw himself grow thinner, more like an animal. This was not him; this was an apparition. An apparition of a demon, that's what it was.

Meanwhile, another ghost fought for his attention. It was barely visible. "Link," it said, somewhat impatiently. Which was real?

Link's oppressors were no longer of significance. Now it was only the demon that mattered. Now he was the one who put himself in shackles, his own slaver and torturer. "Link." The voice was a mere distraction. He kept his focus on the demon. He did not pity it. He found a scythe-like sword in his lithe, tan hand. A hand that would not usually be his. He saw himself again. He was female, now, with a waterfall of red hair tied back in a careless ponytail and angular facial features. He wore the sleek, black body armor of his oppressors.

His perspective was hers again. Out of foreign will, he cut off the arms of the demon with his scythe, freeing it from its bondage. Its mouth still agape and its eyes still glassy, it writhed away on crippled legs.

"Damn it, Link," the voice snapped. "Orientation's today. Remember, for new students?" Orientation. He decided to cut off the demon's head, so he did. He watched it roll away.

"Stop ignoring me, Link. I don't want to make a pattern of this."

"I'm awake," Link said, his eyes partially closed.

"Breakfast's ready." Footsteps receded from the room. Link took a whiff of the air. Pancakes.

Feeling irritable and still wrapped in the essence of his dream, Link dragged himself out of bed. He threw a few quick glances around the room. Bare. It had been since the move. The only things in the room were his bed, which was a necessity, his dresser full of clothes, which was also a necessity, and the upright piano, which was the greatest necessity among the three.

He lumbered into the living room, the smell of syrup little relief against the grating weariness of the rest of his senses. His brother, Daniel, who had so tersely awoken him, was already eating. "How're you doing?" he asked.

"Better," Link said. "But the dreams are still there."

"Another one? Last night? Do you think we'll have to report it?" Daniel asked seriously, his mouth full of food. Link shook his head. Daniel swallowed. "Your following will be happy to hear that you aren't as disturbed in your waking life as you are when you're asleep."

"Following?" Link asked.

"Yeah. The psychologists. They're no better than the paparazzi sometimes, like-" his last words were cut off as tears welled up in his eyes. He turned away and shoved more pancake into his mouth.

"It wasn't as vivid," Link said helpfully.

"Oh."

"And they weren't in it this time."

"Our parents?"

"Yeah."

A shadow loomed over the room. Daniel tried to blink off his tears. Link sat in his chair at the breakfast table slowly, as if it might break. He began to fiddle with his food, looking to meet his brother's eyes and set the moment straight. Daniel glanced up quickly, his blue eyes meeting with Link's for a split second before turning back to the pancakes. Link, hesitantly, began to eat.

The table was silent. Link examined the glint of the morning sunlight on his fork, which was slightly tainted with syrup. "Pastor Rauru asked me to write another song for the choir," Daniel said. Link half-smiled, half-grimaced at the obvious change of subject.

"What about?" Link asked.

"A song of lamentation," he answered. "For Lent."

Link made a face. "Lent was always in the winter on Hyrule, after school started."

"Yeah, well it all gets mixed up, not having a consistent year. On Earth, apparently Lent happens in the spring."

"Except nobody really perceives the church seasons, or seasons of any kind, as being mixed up."

Daniel gave an inquisitive grunt.

"Because planets mostly keep to themselves." Link shrugged. "You know, it's probably rare that anyone sees even two different planets for themselves within a lifetime. Does that make me lucky?"

Daniel's grunt was affirmative, this time. He took a swig of orange juice, but as he did he furrowed his brow and lifted a finger. "Actually," he started, "it's not uncommon for businessmen and politicians, and...well, I guess you have a point. Most of the people to go between planets are at least moderately famous on their own world."

Link, who had now made up his mind to eat his pancakes instead of fiddling with them, suddenly seemed to realize that this was the day of school orientation. His gut leaped with excitement, though he instantly felt guilty for being so happy about such a trivial matter. Perhaps this was why his problem persisted, because he would not let it out of his mind. How could he? This was a slippery slope, he concluded, that he had been falling down for a long time. He kept his mouth running to keep his mind from doing the same.

"I guess I've still got quite a bit of jetlag to make up for, don't I?" he joked, his voice heavy.

"Jetlag?" Daniel asked.

"Thus proving my point," Link mused. "Societal jetlag as well as temporal jetlag. I guess the concept has become obsolete with sonic planes booming back and forth all over Skyloft."

Daniel chuckled, but not with much gusto. "I let you talk for more than a few seconds and you start sounding like a science teacher, or maybe an English teacher. Speaking of teachers...You almost done?"

"Yeah," Link said, stuffing the last morsels of pancake into his mouth and getting up to proceed with the rest of his morning ritual.


	2. Orientation

Link knew just what kind of school he was about to attend by the immaculate, progressively adorned gym.

The first thing he saw as he walked in was the arched ceiling, unnecessarily but impressively high. Then his eyes lowered to the walls, which were decorated with banners advertising pictures of sports teams, not so much ostentatious as simply matter-of-fact, as well as the seats, which were arranged in a sort of postmodern oval that somehow worked with the rectangular basketball court. Last of all, he noticed the floor, which glistened under the bright industrial lighting.

Then he turned his attention to the various students, meandering like cattle in a field. Some clung together in tight groups of old friends and others were wandering by themselves, quietly observing like Link. However, most were forming nervous groups, tentative grasps at social interaction in a new place. Link didn't make any attempt to interact presently; he would let the waves of camaraderie take their natural course. They would eventually find him.

This continued for some fifteen minutes. Link, content on the outskirts of he crowd, was satisfied to simply observe. The majority were freshmen, of course, who occasionally gave Link, who was a junior, an intimidated glance or two. There were also many sophomores, but not as many juniors or seniors. The demographics of the room made a lot of sense, Link had to say.

Eventually, a wave of silence began to spread through the room as a woman in her thirties, wearing jaunty but neat clothes, strode confidently to the center of the room, and, with more energy than was called for, began directing students to the circular rows of seats. Link picked one at random, neither in front or in back, and sat down.

"Hi everybody!" the teacher called with a bright glance around at the students. It was a gesture that apparently took more energy than she had anticipated, seeing as she started what was intended to be a slight shift of direction and turned it into a clumsy spin to acknowledge the students who had sat themselves inconspicuously behind her. She waited for a discombobulated return of her greeting before politely saying, "Could everybody please scooch together a little bit? In front of me here? Just scooch a little bit?" Link chuckled at the way she crinkled her nose every time she said "scooch." Stereotypical teacher charisma.

Link stayed in his seat, having picked a good position that displayed neither belligerence nor superfluous enthusiasm, as other students filed in around him. "All right!" The teacher continued. "Let me introduce myself I'm Ms. Laura Hopkins I'm your principal." One sentence. There was no fluctuation in her voice to indicate a period. What a great way to be welcomed to a supposedly prestigious school. Link laughed out loud, then turned his head down, embarrassed. He thought he felt critical eyes on him. He waited a good ten seconds for the embarrassment to dissipate before sitting upright again.

"Welcome to Knight Academy, a school you will no doubt find both enjoyable, educational, and fun." Link wondered how many people were actually listening to this. "Now, as you probably have heard, this school has a slightly different philosophy about education then most, a more, uh, self-motivated philosophy, one might say in which students propel their own learning both individually, socially, and in groups. We're more discussion-based too so you might not be used to that, as I'm sure most of you are accustomed to writing on a tablet but here we have an emphasis on verbal eloquence, since society in Skyloft is trending toward verbal eloquence, I mean, more verbal communication, and not so much writing on a tablet." Verbal eloquence. Yeah.

"We also have a focus in the arts, if you're into that, which will be integrated into your everyday classroom. Expect to encounter both visual, auditory, and written art in your everyday classroom. But enough of that you'll find that out soon enough. Welcome to Knight Academy! Now I know you're all thinking that this is going to be a boring orientation, but I think that if we can learn to connect with each other starting now, the school year will fly by easily!" She made an extravagant sweeping movement with her arm. "You know, I'm just as new here as you are, having just been hired last summer, so don't be shy, or nervous or anything. You can be yourself here, we're all in the same boat." She must have been much more syntactically fluent in her job interview than she was now, Link thought, smiling sympathetically.

"Now just to warm up, I want you all to stand and stretch with your arms to the sky." She set an example, and the mass of students followed her lead with fifty times the people and half the enthusiasm. "And now touch your toes." The principal apparently found this a more daunting task than she had expected, and struggled to get her hamstrings to expand just a little bit farther. With great effort, she grasped her toes and latched on to them as if trying to hold on to the edge of a cliff. She let go and sprung upward, a smile still plastered to her face, rows of stark white teeth glaring at the students.

"And then stretch up again, leaning to one side and all the way to the shoulders of the person next to you, and give them a good back rub." Her fingers massaged the air, her hands looking like dogs snapping at holograms as students tried to figure out whether to go left or right, their arms bumping together awkwardly. Link blushed as he let his fingers float onto the shoulders of a girl, whose golden hair fell whimsically down her back. Link wished he had taken a look at her face earlier. As aware as he usually was, he had found himself so amused by the principal's antics that he forgot to do observe who was on either side of him.

Curious as to who was massaging him at the present moment, Link turned around to find a boy with the build of a football player, who gave him an indifferent glance and continued massaging him with thick fingers. Link turned his focus back to the girl. He kept his fingers light.

"Now lift your hands up again and stretch, and let them down on the other side, and give the person on your other side a nice massage." As Link worked the lean muscles of the football player, he felt the girl making chopping movements with her hands, running up and down his back. Link grinned at the unconventional switch of massage technique and turned back to look at her. She smiled shyly at him, blushing, and resigned to a simple back rub, though Link wouldn't have been surprised if the red in her face was just a reflection of the red in his. He laughed heartily, mostly at himself for being so immediately smitten.

"Okay, let's all sit down again," Ms. Hopkins said, her fingers still massaging an invisible partner. "Well, now that we're nice and warmed up, let's stand up and come to the floor of the gym, where we can play some games to get to know each other." The students complied, although most seemed to have gotten the gist that this principal was not the most experienced.

Grasping for a reason to talk to the girl beside him, Link decided to bring this up. "What do you think of this principal?" He scolded himself for being so prone to the regular hormonal ailments of teen life.

"Hm?" she asked, turning to him and drawing closer.

"The principal. What do you think of her?"

She laughed. "Well, she certainly has good intentions, that I can say."

"I know what you mean," Link said, smiling broadly.

Once everybody was in the middle of the gym, the principal started again. "Now, for this first activity, I'll have to ask you to get a partner." As well-acquainted students made a beeline for their comrades, she added, "Someone you don't know."

"I don't know you, do I?" the girl asked Link.

"No, I don't believe you do."

Once everybody had a partner, the principal, who had paired with some poor freshman who looked absolutely ashamed at being the odd one out, said, "Now I need you to, without speaking or writing, tell as much about yourself as you can to your partner. You can choose who goes first." She was about to start the game with the freshman when she froze. "And the choosing should be done non-verbally also," she improvised.

Link turned to the girl, who was looking at him expectantly. It seemed that she had made the executive decision that he was going first. "Um," he mused, scratching the back of his neck and glancing around. She continued to look at him with amused eyes. He thought hard. What could he tell with only motion, besides the fact that he was baffled?

After what seemed to Link a long while, but was in truth only about ten seconds, Link physically whacked himself in the head for missing the obvious answer, an action that provoked a giggle from the girl. Link put his hands out in front of him and wiggled his fingers, palms downward.

"Um, typing?" she asked, eyes narrowed inquisitively. Link shook his head. "Let me think. I feel like this should be fairly obvious. Um...playing piano! That's it!" Link nodded vigorously, then rubbed his hands together as he searched for something else. For a fleeting second, almost unconsciously, he wondered if there was a way to show the tragedies that had happened to him over the summer, but his mind quickly shoved the thought out of the way and he forgot about it.

He continued to scan his neurons for something he could use for this modified game of charades. He rapidly found something else to convey. He arranged his hands as though he were measuring himself, then moved them to one side and let the distance between them expand. "You're tall. Well, I don't think physical traits count in this game."

Link shook his head again, this time the dramatizing the way he moved his hands away from his own body and into the empty air. "You have a really, really tall clone," the girl wondered helpfully. Link started to spell the word out in the air with his fingers, but she jumped on the opportunity to reprimand him playfully. "No, you can't write anything," she chided, her finger moving back and forth in the air, like a metronome. Link stomped his foot and made a face, provoking another laugh. Well, even if he wasn't an effective actor, at least he was an effective clown. Or maybe that was a bad thing. He repeated his motion, doing so over and over as the hypothetical clone got taller and taller.

"Alrighty!" called the principal. "Switch partners!"

Link let his body sag dejectedly. "I was trying to say that I have an older brother," he said.

"Oh, so a really, really tall clone was almost right."

"Almost."

"Okay. Now, let's see..." The girl thought for a minute, eyes turned toward the ceiling. Then she got an idea. She held her left hand open, fingers outstretched, and put her right thumb and forefinger together. Link knew what she was doing before the imaginary stylus even touched the imaginary tablet.

"You write!" he said. She gave him an affirmative thumbs-up. Then she hunched over a bit, her face bent in a caricatured impression of anger. She pretended to hold something in her right hand and squinted as if she was trying to make out something through a dense fog. Then she made her left hand into a claw and widened her eyes, hissing nastily as she did so. "Poe," Link said, remembering newsflashes of the dreaded "ghost species" an unfortunate colony had fallen to a few years ago. The rumors had never subsided since then, perhaps for the sole reason that the lanterns they carried so unnervingly resembled the lanterns of ancient human fashion. But what did that have to do with her?

She outstretched her arms, looking reverently upward and spreading her limbs every which-way. "Oh...oh...octopus!" Link said, causing the both of them to explode in laughter. Once they had calmed down, she repeated the motion, her arms more stagnant this time. "Oh, it's a tree," Link said, his voice so flat that they couldn't help but fall in to a bottomless pit of laughter. Amidst the laughter, something occurred to Link. "Poetry!" he said, causing the girl to nod excitedly. "I was wondering what you could possibly have to do with Poes. You write poetry, I see. A pretty multifaceted-"

"Alrighty!" This principal was starting to bug Link in a very endearing way. "Now for your next activity, you need to get a partner." Silence ensued. "Um, a new partner, I mean!"

"Dang, we were having a lot of fun," the girl said, casting a glance of mock resentment towards Ms. Hopkins.

"Yeah. Well, see you around," Link said, reluctantly turning away.

"Wait, you can't just leave! You haven't even told me your name."

Link turned back around. She had her head cocked to one side, waiting for him to speak. She looked so cute, wisps of blond hair sailing among a smooth face and shining blue eyes, that he could hardly force his voice to work. "Link," he managed.

"Zelda." She gracefully extended her hand, which Link shook warmly.


	3. Pastor Rauru

Daniel waited for a face to appear on his tablet. Eventually, the loading icon disappeared and was replaced by the friendly, old face of Pastor Rauru. The title of pastor, to all who knew him, was not as much a term of respect as of love, although that is not to say that respect was absent in the church's congregation. Both qualities were greatly present in his church, and any newcomers were sure to find such admiration quickly.

"Daniel! What brings you to call me?" Rauru asked with a warm smile.

"Well, I was thinking about that song you asked me to write, and I had an idea for it. It's simple, but effective, and I think you'll like it."

Rauru looked curiously at Daniel. "You always have ideas, don't you? Now is this a musical idea or a lyrical idea, for I'm afraid you'll lose me if you go off about music theory, like you do with Link." His smile flickered, and his face became just a bit more serious. "How is Link, by the way?"

Daniel smiled wryly. "He's doing better."

"Good to hear. I'll keep him in my prayers. Now how about that idea?" He pointed to Daniel encouragingly, palm upward.

"Well, you know how people say that you cannot have good without evil?"

"Yeah."

"So the lyrics would start like that, you know, 'What is good without evil?' and repeat over a stanza of simple minor one to major four chords for a while, then-"

Rauru laughed. "You lost me at 'stanza.'"

Daniel laughed earnestly along with him. "You see, as far as lyrics go, we'll have that sort of idea circulating throughout the entire song. We'll start with the good without evil and then we'll branch out to love without hate, life without death, the usual."

"And then?"

"The final line will be, 'What is Jesus without sin?'."

A short silence. "So," Rauru started thoughtfully, "you're trying to reinforce the idea that, despite his countless miracles, teachings, and simple good deeds on this earth, his inevitable destiny was the cross?"

"Yes!" Daniel exclaimed, eyes twinkling. Rauru had guessed exactly what he was trying to express.

"Great theological point," Rauru said, leaning back in his chair. "However, the connotation of the sentence, 'What is Jesus without sin,' might throw the congregation off a little."

"Isn't it good to be thrown off your guard, to have your understanding stretched and compromised, now and again? We don't need a docile church, now, do we?"

"No, we don't," Rauru agreed, nodding slowly and looking into the distance. He had his fingertips pressed together. "When a church gets too compliant, too trusting in ritual and not in thought, dogmas begin to form. I believe that will be a good song. And I have no doubt your music will be exceptional as well, being popular in churches all over this hemisphere of Skyloft."

"Thanks."

"No, thank you. You do as much to keep the church alive as I do, or maybe more."

"Flattery won't be necessary," Daniel said politely, though he knew that Rauru's gratitude was genuine.

"Oh, please," Rauru said, laughing. "Isn't it Link's first day of school today?"

Daniel took some time to adjust to the change of subject. "Yeah. Well, not actual school, just orientation."

"You worried about how he'll fare, after what he's been through?"

"No, not really. Academics have always come easy to him."

Rauru lowered his head a bit. "What about his social situation? His closest friends were all left behind on Hyrule."

"That'll be fine as well, I'm pretty sure. He's always treasured his friends, but he's never been overly dependent on them."

Rauru's head tilted downward even more. "But are they dependent on him?"

"Damn it, Rauru!" Daniel said, half in frustration and half in sarcasm. "Can you just let me believe everything's okay, just for a second?"

"Don't deceive yourself," Rauru said calmly, with no condescension. "Self-consolation is one thing. Deliberate ignorance is another. The key to serenity is not remaining calm when you believe all is right, for such a thing is easy, but rather finding peace of mind when you believe all is awry. Knowledge of the truth should not be sacrificed for the sake of temporary happiness. Permanent happiness comes from changing that truth for the better, not dismissing it."

Daniel sighed. "Thanks. You should use that in a sermon sometime."

Rauru smiled. "I would, aside from the fact that I don't remember what I said."

"Oh, you're just being humble."

"It was a moment of inspiration. I doubt I could repeat it as eloquently as I did just then."

"But you still retained the general idea, did you not?"

"You sound like you want to write a song about it."

"Maybe. If you write a sermon about it."

"Perhaps I will, sometime," Rauru said, chuckling.

At that moment, Daniel spied the icon in the bottom right corner of the screen. "Link's calling me," he said.

"Oh, I'd better let you go then."

"Alright." Daniel pressed a button, and Rauru's face faded to reveal Link's.

"Hey Link," Daniel said.

"Hey," he replied cheerily. That was a good sign.

"So it went well, I'm guessing?"

"Yeah. You should meet this principal. She's uh..." He laughed. "She's interesting."

"I'm sure I will soon. But why so exuberant?"

Link smiled cleverly. "Seems like I found friends here sooner than I thought I would."

"Oh, and friends of the opposite gender, I can assume, by the look on your face."

Link blushed. "I'm usually pretty impervious to female charm, but I'm afraid this girl is different."

"How so?" Daniel questioned teasingly.

"I don't know. She just strikes me as...as...Can you not interrogate me about this?"

"Okay. But at least tell me her name."

Link sighed dramatically. "It's Zelda. There. You happy?"

"For now." Daniel grinned and switched off his tablet.


	4. Lunch

Link sauntered to his car. He was in no rush to get home. For the first time in years, he was actually looking forward to school. Perhaps it was because school was often so demanding that it left no room for wandering thought, a mouse that had been running in the wrong direction, circling throughout the maze without any progress towards the cheese, for so long. But more likely it was about Zelda. "Zelda." He tried the name on his tongue, which tingled after he said it.

"Zelda," he said again. It was an interesting name. A smart name. He liked it. It certainly beat the name "Link," which was stark and bland in comparison. He decided to try something. "Link and Zelda." Now that worked. He smiled to himself, amused at his own reverie. He had reached his car. Before he entered he took a quick glance around him. The school, now that the orientation was over and most of the students had scattered, looked serene. Large white buildings, sprinkled with colorful floral landscaping. He took a deep breath and turned to his car. He said the name one last time. "Zelda."

"Yes?" was the reply.

Link gasped and spun around, shocked to find Zelda standing there, wearing a witty expression and a calm demeanor. "I...didn't expect you to be there."

"Then I did my job correctly."

"You're just too clever for me, aren't you?"

"That remains to be seen the day you catch me unawares, whispering your name."

Link unlocked his car and opened the door, though his gaze was still fixed on Zelda. "Well, if you want to be blunt about it, then by all means, do so."

"Blunt about what?"

Link touched his chin thoughtfully, considering her. "I'll let you play innocent as long as you want," he decided. "Bye," he added, getting in his car.

"Wait!" she said hurriedly. "Um, you know, I have to wait until my mom gets here."

Link grinned. "Why do I need to know that?"

She thought for a moment, then said, "I'll let you play innocent as long as you want." She strode away.

"Damn," Link said, laughing. She didn't appear to hear him. So Link decided to be stubborn. He hadn't lost the banter battle yet. He started the engine and pulled out of the parking space. Zelda whipped her head around and watched him drive away. Then Link made a mistake. He caught her eye. He turned the car around and pulled back into the parking space, shut off the engine, and exited the car again, defeated. He had lost this battle.

"Glad you decided to join me!" Zelda called from the bench she was sitting.

"So am I!" Link replied. He walked over and sat down beside her, about a foot away.

She stared at the empty space between them. "Oh, don't be so pathetic. We're friends, after all, aren't we?" she asked, removing about six inches from that distance.

Link decided to make a daring move. It was time he did, seeing as she had already made several. He put his arm around her shoulders. It was her turn to blush now. It was time for a new battle, and this one seemed to be turning out in his favor. "Okay...so..." she started.

"Don't have any witty comeback for that, now, do you?" he asked.

She turned her gaze downward, though she was still smiling. "Touche."

The silence that happened afterward was not something Link had anticipated. "Um," he began. "So do we revert to small talk now, or what?"

"So how about that piano playing? And that really, really tall clone?"

"The piano," Link began, "is one of the few things I'm passionate about. Or music in general, rather. I also used to play violin, but I...lost it a while back and haven't got a new one since."

"Oh! How'd it get lost?"

He froze. How could he tell her that it had been on the starship when the Gerudo Marauders had attacked? "Well, that's a long story," he said.

She seemed to sense the fluctuation. "We have time."

"There are a lot better things to talk about."

She shrugged it off, deciding not to pursue the subject. "Okay." They were quiet for a while, trying to lift the fog of seriousness, which had somehow settled upon them against the will of either one. Had Link's aversion been so obvious? The fog remained. "You sure you don't want to talk about it?" she asked.

He took his arm away. "I'm sure." Regretfully, she gazed downward. Link shifted. "Look, I'm sorry if it makes you feel excluded, but there is such a thing as personal information."

"No, it's fine. And I'm glad you admit the experience is personal, whatever that may be, rather than making something up."

"I'm a terrible liar. I can't hold a poker face to save my life."

"That's only because you don't practice."

"Thanks. Although, I must say you have no way of knowing that." The fog had lifted. Link smiled.

"It's in your demeanor. You don't lie much."

Link shook his head. "Well, I'm glad it is." He spied a small, azure car pulling into the parking lot. Zelda moved a couple inches from Link. "That your mom?" he asked.

"I'm afraid it is."

"Hmm. Well, see you."

"Okay. Bye."

The car stopped impassively at the curb and Zelda entered, sending a last glance toward Link. He smiled, and waited for the car to disappear down the road before standing up with a sigh and walking to his. "Zelda," he said one last time, letting the name roll off his tongue pleasantly.

He started the car and the seat rumbled beneath him, coinciding with the grumble of his stomach, whose presence he hadn't recognized until now. He scanned the varied shops and restaurants on the way home. A modest pizza place snatched his attention, and, after brief consideration, he pulled in. As he opened the door of the building, a wave of cool air brushed against his face, dispelling the presence of the comfortably warm air outside. His skin soon adapted to the air conditioning. He stepped up to the counter, where workers were darting about busily, and made his order, a slice of pepperoni and jalapeno pizza. He took his seat, running a hand lazily through his hair, and turned his attention to the news blaring on the TV screen.

The reporter was saying something about a local woman who had died last week. She had lived on the fourth story of a six-story apartment building. She had somehow trapped herself inside her apartment, so she called the police. The police didn't pay her so-called emergency much mind, so she tried to climb down from the window, an attempt which ended her in a mangled heap on the ground. The human soul, he thought, doesn't have the capacity to store such tragedies. Without emotional relation, they might as well be fiction.


	5. History Class

Link entered the classroom, immediately scanning the room for one particular friendly face. He found her, sitting at a desk and fiddling with the various features. Electronic desks. Was the pencil and the piece of paper entirely obsolete on Skyloft? He sat down by her. "From the look on your face, you seem to be in the same predicament as I."

"And what predicament would that be?" she asked, switching off her desk, which took on the appearance of a conventional wood plane, and leaning on one elbow as she turned to him.

"These desks are new for me," he said. "Might I assume they are for you, as well?"

"Yeah." She grimaced. "As much as I hate to say it, I came from one of the less technologically advanced places on this planet. My parents were never wealthy."

"There's no shame in that. If anything, it only increases my guilt for having pare-...family who is well off."

"Well, there's no shame in that either."

Link shrugged humbly. "There are some radicals who would say wealth through birthright is shameful."

"Well, those radicals also say that rich kids should be kidnapped and purposefully put in middle class foster families, so..."

"Hmm. Is fairness even possible?"

"It's hard to say. What is fairness anyway?"

"When all people have equal opportunity."

"Opportunity to do what?"

"Opportunity to pursue what they desire in life?"

"Which might very well put them in a position to take others' opportunity away."

"True. But to take their hard earned power, wealth, whatever they might value..."

"I know. That would tip the balances as well. Say, how'd we get talking about this? I thought we were merely discussing our own personal situations, and now suddenly we're having a debate of philosophical proportions."

Suddenly, another voice, bright, intelligent, welcoming, yet coolly condescending, came from behind them. "Philosophical proportions. If that's where your natural conversation leads you, then I would deem you fit for this class."

Link and Zelda spun around, feeling strangely guilty despite the meaning of her words. "You're the teacher, I would assume?" Link asked the woman he found himself facing. Her face was young and taut.

"Yes, I am the teacher. My name is Ms. Maxwell. Although I'm sure you'll find that out doubly when I announce it in front of the class."

"Well it doesn't hurt to know somebody before you're supposed to, does it?"

"It doesn't hurt whom? You or the person you're meeting?"

"Well..." Link couldn't decide whether to like or dislike his history teacher. "It all depends on what stance you're taking."

"And what stance are you taking?"

"One of a student meeting a teacher for the first time?"

"Good answer. Superficial, but good."

She proceeded to walk to the front of the class, her heels giving an extra three inches or so to her height, where she cleared her throat and raised a hand charismatically. The class, now situated, fell silent.

"I'm Ms. Maxwell. As you well know, I am your first period history teacher."

"Hi Ms. Maxwell," the class parroted with the utmost enthusiasm.

"Ha!" she exclaimed. The laugh almost sounded honest. "You'll have to do better than that to make me feel welcomed into my own classroom. Now, I will try to keep our class briefing short. I want to get to some material today, however sparse that might be. This class," she continued, striding along the front row of desks, "is not about what the people of our past did. It's about why they did what they did. It's about finding the key to the door that leads to a more productive future for the human race."

Somebody in back raised his hand. "Ms. Maxwell, I hate to say this, but you might want to rephrase that." Link turned around, as did the rest of the class. The boy who had spoke was thin and pale, his bleached hair drooping jauntily over one eye.

"And how might I rephrase that?" the teacher asked expectantly, ready to either uplift the student or rebuke him depending on his answer.

"Well, I'll leave the phrasing part up to you," he began with a grin, "but I thought you should know that the girl beside me would fit outside the category of human." The girl beside him, startled, jerked her head upward. Her face had previously been buried in her desk, but now she shot her gaze warily about the room like a hunted animal. Her skin, a rich auburn. Her face, bony. Her hair, a burning orange.

Whispers of "gerudo" reverberated throughout the room.

Link felt his face blanch as the memories that had been, for the most part, diffused into the subjectivity of his mind condensed once again into vividness. No, he told himself. He couldn't associate this girl with his own bad experiences. It wasn't right. He needed to treat her like anybody else. Yet he still felt the dread rise within him.

"Something wrong?" Zelda asked, startling him.

"No, not really."

"An alien presence doesn't...bother you, does it?"

"No," he said tersely, forcing a smile.

Meanwhile, the class was still gawking at the gerudo, whose image they had only seen in gut-wrenching documentaries about fateful raids. "Just wanted to include everyone," the boy said, slouching back and folding his arms like a king. He had caused a fair amount of turmoil and controversy, and was obviously reveling in it.

Ms. Maxwell opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, then opened it again, her voice successful this time. "I...I'm sorry that I assumed everyone here was...of the species _homo sapien_. I didn't mean any offense. Surely, you understand the reasonableness of such a mistake?"

"No offense taken," the gerudo girl replied softly, her lips barely moving.

"Good. And what's your name, if I may ask?" She said it was Nabooru. "My pleasure. And what's your name, you, the young man who pointed this out?"

The boy touched his chin as if considering whether to comply with her request. "I have a variety of nicknames, from a variety of people," he began, "but you can call me Ghirahim. It's my birth name. Some call me Gary, for short, or mi'lord, if they know their place, but to maintain a certain level of formality in a classroom environment I would like it if you called me Ghirahim, although I wouldn't mind it if you used 'mi'lord' once in a while for-"

"Thank you, that will be enough." The class burst into laughter, Link and Zelda included. The only person not laughing was Nabooru, who had her forehead pressed into her palms, her elbows on the desk. Link, when he noticed her, tried to send her a reassuring glance, but once he had her gaze, he couldn't hold it.

The chaos eventually subsided, and the teacher went on with her spiel about the value of history, which few had the focus to take seriously. Link and Zelda were among those few, but a way's behind them Ghirahim was too busy basking in the glory of his role as the class clown to pay much attention. A thought occurred to Link. He tapped Zelda on the shoulder. She leaned in, her pointed ear turned curiously to hear him. "You'd think Nabooru was new, seeing as how surprised everyone was just a second ago, but I didn't see her at orientation yesterday. Why do you think that is?"

She considered for a moment. "Her parents probably didn't want her to thrust her so quickly into a place that demanded social interaction. They probably thought a teacher-driven classroom was a safer place to start."

"I'd have to agree with you there."

The teacher had finished her speech and was busy typing something into her tablet. Everyone's desk suddenly sprang to life, beeping in unison as a flashing assignment notification appeared on the smooth surface.

"Now, I'd like you to get in groups of two to four and discuss the questions presented. When you are finished, compose a statement summarizing your discussion and send it to me under the names of everyone in the group." She left the students to themselves now, sitting down with her personal tablet and doing something, presumably business.

Link and Zelda turned to each other in mutual agreement, like two close friends. But then Zelda cast her eyes away, back to where Nabooru was sitting. "Maybe we'd better include Nabooru. She doesn't look inclined to find a partner herself, nor does anybody look inclined to choose her as a partner."

"Okay," Link said. He and Zelda approached her slowly, though openly. Her hair was sprawled upon the desk, hiding her face. "Hey, um, could we work with you?" Link asked nonchalantly. She pulled her curtain of hair partially away, revealing a solemn yellow eye. "If you don't want to, that's fine, we were just looking for another person, and it looks like you happen to be...free."

"Sure," she said, nearly whispering. Without another word, she opened the assignment. Zelda shot Link a quick glance as if to say that he had done a good job. The three of them read silently.

_Excerpts from the UIR (United Interplanetary Republic) Constitution; Section I, Article III_

_Independent governments or corporations under the jurisdiction of the Hylian Matriarchy may compose, ratify, and enforce constitutions as long as the private constitutions do not conflict with the federal constitution, or are deemed by the Hylian Matriarchy to be inhumane or unjust. In such a case, the institution enforcing the constitution shall be notified of its violation immediately and allowed a time period of 504 hours to either revoke the constitution or re-ratify it under terms compliant with federal law. If such action is not taken, then the federal government has the right to intervene with military action._

_Section III, Article IV_

___Independent governments or corporations under the jurisdiction of the Hylian Matriarchy_ are required to pay taxes to the federal government. All tax rates will be based on populace and standard of living, and will be organized by institutions, who are given the arbitrary power to determine individual tax rates and distribution of the net amount for each institution as determined by federal law. The algorithm derived to determine said tax rates can be found in Economics _by Nayru._

_1. What does the constitution suggest about the views of the UIR toward institutions' rights?  
_

_2. Using your answer for question 1 as a premise, what does the constitution suggest about the views of the UIR toward individual rights?  
_

"Well, that's quite the way to welcome us to the class, I must say," Link commented, eyes still scanning the questions. "Personally, I think I'll be happy with the challenge."

Zelda smiled. "That remains to be seen."

"Philosophical proportions," Link joked, returning her grin.

Meanwhile, Nabooru was still studying the documents, leaning over the table intensively, the glow of the desk casting a pale light up into her face. "Individual rights," she muttered.

"Tough question, huh?" Zelda said.

Nabooru looked up. "They sound open-ended, but there are always parameters." Her eyes darted to Zelda's, then away, then back again, then down, and they carried the rest of her face with them.

"Like what?"

"Like...they're not going to make the government look bad."

"I'd have to agree with that," Link added. "Of course, the questions are geared toward us saying that the UIR favors individual rights; it would take a daring teacher to say otherwise on the first day of school. You have to admit, it would look insane out of context."

"Hmm. I guess so. Why don't we try to actually answer the questions?"

"She didn't actually say to answer them; she said to discuss them." He received a half-amused, half annoyed glance from Zelda. He laughed. "So let's discuss the questions."

"And it would take a daring student to question the teacher's objectivity on the first day of school. You have to admit, it might just look insane out of context."

"Why are you so good at using my words against me?"

"You set yourself up."

"I suppose I do. But do we want to present ourselves as hasty people who want the 'right answer,' or thoughtful people who want the honest answer?"

"I'd take the latter."

"Then so be it."

"But we should actually discuss the Constitution itself, should we not?"

"Alright. Want my opinion?"

"Link-" Zelda began, sensing the increasing belligerence in his voice.

"In my opinion, the key words in this whole excerpt are 'deemed by the Hylian Matriarchy to be inhumane or unjust.' Three people, who are just as human as anyone else, have the executive power to override other constitutions on the grounds that they fit outside these two extremely ambiguous words."

"Words that are understood by the entire populace."

"Words that mean nothing without a veto system."

Zelda was silent. "I must say, you beat me. You have a sharp mind, despite your tactlessness."

"Why, thank you."

"Tactlessness is not something to be proud of."

"I was thanking you for your comment about my sharp mind."

They both laughed, though mid-chuckle they remembered there was a third party who had been mute the entire time. Zelda turned to Nabooru. "What do you think?"

Nabooru gave them a tiny, sly grin. "I think Ms. Maxwell will like your answers."

"What do you..." Zelda looked down at the screen, which read "Assignment Successfully Submitted."

She looked up at Nabooru in surprise. "You sent it? What did you write?"

"I wrote what you said."

Zelda's eyes widened. "Word for word?"

She nodded. "As close as I could get it. Ms. Maxwell seems to be a thoughtful person. She'll like an honest answer."

Zelda blushed.

"What is it?" Link asked. "Scared about having your uncensored words recorded?"

"No, it's just...I'm kind of a perfectionist sometimes, and...you know, I would have liked to-"

"Ah, I see. So you _are_ scared of having your uncensored words recorded."

Zelda huffed. "Sure. If that's how you want to put it."

Out of the blue, the bell blared, bringing glorious news of a fifteen minute break with it. Students dispersed, their chatter growing more lively with the heralding of a freer age; save Link and Zelda, that is, seeing as their chatter was already as lively as was called for in the scenario.

"Wait!" Ms. Maxwell hustled to the front of the room. "Don't leave without submitting your assignments! Don't worry whether it's incomplete or not, it'll be fine."

Link and Zelda bade goodbye to Nabooru, Zelda conscientiously thanking her for being the group's scribe, before heading to the door. However, before either could place a foot outside the classroom, the teacher's voice beckoned them.

"Link, Zelda, Nabooru, could you see me?"


	6. A Short Break

"I do like your boldness," Ms. Maxwell began. "However, you must also keep in mind that such bold assertions are not called for."

"What do you mean?" Link asked.

Maxwell leaned back in her chair, furrowing her brow. "You take the role of our government out of context." She thought for a minute while Link and Zelda exchanged glances. "Though there is not a veto system for the Matriarchy, as is included as a check on many planetary governments, you must recognize that if the government of the planet that committed the violation itself was to be allowed to veto their decisions...the Matriarchy would often not stand much of a chance. And to involve other planets in the vote would both be time-consuming and involving a third party that is likely to be apathetic about the plight of other planets with little relation to their own. And you can't require apathetic people to vote, can you?"

"I see your point," Link said, in a rather matter-or-fact fashion, "but each insubordinate planet would have a populace that could vote to veto, and I am sure they would care a lot more about an unjust government than-"

"I see your point too. However, who says that the regulations existing upon such planets would allow for a vote, or have the people with the power to collect them?"

"It's unreasonable to claim that the federal government can't enforce such a simple law."

She shook her head slowly. "Nothing's simple. Collecting a vote is much harder than one would think. One does not simply walk about, collecting votes on little slips of paper in a bucket."

Link tried to think of an answer, but he had lost his focus. "I'm sorry, but can we take our break? I mean, this is interesting and all, but..."

"Okay, you can go," she said, turning away from them and toward her terminal. Link, Zelda, and Nabooru, who had been sitting a ways a way but listening intently the entire time, started toward the door. Ms. Maxwell fidgeted, rapped her fingers thoughtfully on her desk and cleared her throat. They turned. "Don't think that I regard your opinions as illegitimate. Believe me, I hold you in the highest regard. If I didn't, I wouldn't be talking to you like this."

Link smiled politely. "Thanks," he said.

Maxwell sat, looking at the screen but seeing nothing, as she heard the click of the door closing. Had Link been right? She had always regarded the UIR as one of the most just governments in history, giving as many rights to planets as possible without sacrificing any of the fundamental principles of right and wrong. But on the other hand, there were very few checks on the Hylian Matriarchy itself. Three women, made practically immortal by technology barely imaginable by most. They hadn't done anything yet to make her doubt them...as far as she knew, that is, but Link could be entirely correct. The Constitution itself could be scandalous, set up so that any "inhumane" or "unjust" actions could be pounced upon without the danger of public opposition. And their military was unmatched by anything individual planets could muster. If such a truth was so, then she had been a fool all her life.

On the other hand, it was most likely that Link was just another self-proclaimed intellectual, who thought he could logic his way out of any situation without prior knowledge.

* * *

Outside the classroom, Zelda stopped in her tracks, causing Link to do the same with a curious glance at her. Zelda waited until Nabooru was out of earshot before turning to Link. "Not do be demeaning, to you or her, but...does the presence of a gerudo make you..." She groped for the right word. "Uncomfortable?"

"Me specifically?" he asked.

She nodded. "Despite you, you know, being accepting as possible, I couldn't help but notice some hostile undertones."

Link inhaled quickly. He had no idea. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you looked nervous. Cold. When she spoke. When you looked at her."

When he looked at her. He didn't want to admit it, but, internally, he hated her. He hated what she had done for his family, because what was there to distinguish her from the brutes who had slaughtered his parents after torturing all of them for days on a frigate? But, externally, he said, "I believe you're being overly receptive. You're reaching the wrong conclusions. I don't have anything against Nabooru."

She shrugged. "Seems that the class is uncomfortable with her there, if nothing else. In all honesty, I wouldn't be surprised if you were the same way."

He fidgeted. "Well I'm not the same way. At least...at least I try not to be."

She patted his arm. "Well, trying is the first step. And what matters more: your natural drives or your real-life actions and intentions?"

"I don't want to be a racist." He said this, even as he knew that the problem was much more deeply rooted than anything society's perpetual whispers could ever plant.

"Many would say racism doesn't exist anymore. That it hasn't since the twenty-first century."

"They are so wrong."

Zelda looked back at the classroom door. "Would you say Ms. Maxwell has similar feelings?"

"Probably, although she wouldn't dare show them."

Zelda touched his arm. "I haven't offended you, have I?"

"No...no, don't worry about it. I'd rather you be blunt than deceptive, anyway."

"Well, thanks." The bell rang. "Say, what class do you have next?"

He pulled up his schedule and scrolled through the classes. "Looks like I've got math next. Calculus II."

"Hmm. I've got literature next."

"Well, see you later, then, I guess." They walked away in opposite directions, both glancing over their shoulder but neither meeting the other's gaze.

As Link walked away, he thought about his rapport with Zelda. Less than a day had he known her, yet their minds locked together so smoothly. Had it been by chance that he had found her, or had it been the will of some outside force that they had met in just the right place, at just the right time, in precisely the right way? They might, he thought, just have to attribute their relationship to God.


	7. Sulfur and Formaldehyde

The science room reeked of sulfur, with a touch of formaldehyde. The shelves in back held bottles upon bottles of mysterious liquids, all of which looked quite unfriendly to the bare hand. In front of the room stood a man in a lab coat, probably somewhere in his fifties, grinning as if he had one day mistaken one of the more potent liquids for another, hadn't realized it until the fumes were well up his nostrils, and was never the same since.

"Teachers have a way with first impressions here, don't they?" Link muttered to Zelda, who nodded in agreement.

The teacher, after counting the students in the classroom, turned and wrote "Chemistry" on the chalkboard in flamboyant letters. "Hello, class!" he began, underlining his scrawl a few unnecessary times. A few suppressed giggles made their way through the room.

"I love chalkboards, I wish everybody still used a chalkboard, they're so fun," he mumbled, on a random tangent. He snapped back into reality, saying, "Now you probably call most of your teachers 'Mr. This,' or 'Mrs. That,' but personally, I don't care much for titles. Call me Boom. That'll kill two birds with one stone: it'll give you something to call me, and it'll tell you what we do in this class. Now, chemistry is a cool subject because you get to blow a lot of things up. And I'm not talking about Mentos in soda kind of blowing things up, I'm talking about francium in water kind of blowing things up."

Zelda poked Link. "Isn't francium illegal?" she whispered.

"I thought so. Maybe not," he replied.

"Now we'll still have to go through all the math like specific heat and crystal lattices and blah blah blah, which may not sound as exciting as explosions, so I have something to tell you. They're not. But in case, say, ten percent of you decides to go into chemistry, or any kind of science, you need to know this stuff. And it's all relative. They might not be the most exciting thing, but they're a hell of a lot more exciting than a lot of things. Like football. Never really liked football. Oh, we have to get this oblong piece of leather to one side of the field before those guys get it to the other! Quick, let's bash our brains out against each other so we can get it closer to our side of the field!" Laughter exploded throughout the room. "No offense, football players, that's just my personal preference!" he called over the tumult.

"Now, who knows what happens when you pour sulfuric acid on sugar?" Everyone was silent as all eyes went to the pile of white powder in the middle of the lab desk behind which Boom was situated. "Nobody? Well then, prepare to find out!" He snatched a test tube from a shelf behind him, and, without much ceremony, dumped its contents on the sugar. It started to expand, the white powder turning black and crusty. Some of the unlucky fellows in the front row leaned back as the black mush began to creep over the edge of the desk, pieces of it breaking off and landing in a flaky bunch on the floor. Pretty soon, Boom had a pile of pure something-that-did-not-look-like-sugar on the desk, and a new stench was added to the already exotic bouquet of sulfur and formaldehyde.

"So what happened there," he began again, getting his chalk hand ready, "is the sugar was reduced to pure carbon while the water in the sugar was taken out by the acid. Dehydration of sugar. Good lab to do at the dinner table, assuming you have sulfuric acid at your disposal."

At that moment, the door flung open and a student tumbled into the classroom. It was Ghirahim. "Not this guy again," Zelda whispered.

"Yep. I'm afraid it's this guy. Again. But if you ask me, I don't think he's that bad, from what I've seen of him. I think he'll get along with this teacher pretty well."

"You've got a point."

Ghirahim stopped in the middle of the classroom and marveled at the pile of carbon on Boom's desk. "Can I touch it?"

"Why, of course!" Boom said, grinning. "Just wash your hands afterward. Now, could you please tell me of all the important things you were doing that obligated you to postpone my class?" Ghirahim prepared to make a sarcastic speech like he had in Ms. Maxwell's class, but before he could, Boom patted his arm, laughing. "Don't worry about it. I'm not that kind of teacher." The sparkle left Ghirahim's eyes dejectedly. He sat in a seat, next to Link, and leaned his chin jauntily on a fist.

"What'd I miss?" he asked.

"Not much," Link replied. "Basically, just a sort of class introduction, and a bunch of sugar being turned into...what you just touched, which is now pure carbon."

"Dang, I was hoping I'd stuck my finger into something slightly more badass than just sugar."

"Well, he poured sulfuric acid on it, if that helps."

"Oh. That does help."

"Glad I could be of assistance."

"Oh, shush, Ghirahim. Sticking your finger into sulfuric acid is not something to be proud of," Zelda chided. Ghirahim accepted the challenge.

"And why not?" Ghirahim inquired.

"Because skin is useful."

"So is experience."

"Tell me one thing you learned from touching that acid-drenched carbon pile."

"I learned that acid-drenched carbon piles feel flaky and crumbly."

"And is that information worth the sacrifice of your epidermis?"

He extended his long, pale finger and examined it. "My epidermis looks pretty unscathed."

"I'd have to agree with Ghirahim on this one," Link chimed in. "I don't think he would be allowed to touch it if it was overly dangerous. But then again..." He glanced at Boom's ecstatic face, which was currently spewing something about combustion reactions, and then back at the shelf full of strange liquids. "Well, he hasn't been fired yet," Link finished.

Zelda gazed at Boom critically. "Have you ever wondered if teachers like this are just putting on a show to get students to like their class?"

"I think this guy's earnest," Ghirahim said. "Did you know he put a class description on line?"

Link had a feeling he knew where this was going. "No, what'd it say?"

"It was a picture of an explosion."

"Figures," Link said, shrugging.


	8. Fi

His tablet. That's what he had forgotten in class. On his way home, he had tried to pull it from his pocket. But, alas, it was gone. He had known he left something behind, being his ridiculous, preoccupied self, but he just couldn't recall specifically what it was. Now, grimacing, he approached Boom's room, hoping that by some slim chance the teacher was still there. He turned the doorknob, and, to his relief, the door swung open to reveal a very surprised Boom. He had some intricate contraption sprawled across his desk, various Bunsen burners placed under a number boiling flasks, all interconnected by a mass of tubes. Watching the experiment was a girl of about thirteen, sitting atop a desk, legs swinging back and forth underneath. "Hi, um, Link?" Boom guessed.

"Yes, Link is correct."

"Craving to see the intricate inner workings of pressure equilibrium, or do you have another purpose in coming here?"

"Well, I was just wondering if you found a tablet laying around. I believe I left mine in here."

"I can't say I have...wait! I have! I put it back in the storage room, but I don't know where, exactly, I put it. Hold on. I'll check for you." He bustled through a door, poking his head out one last time to say, "And this is my daughter Fi, by the way. Somehow, she hasn't gotten tired of my antics."

"Oh, I have. I just put up with them," she said.

Boom laughed. "I stand corrected."

His head retracted into the doorway like a turtle retracts its head into its shell, but before the door closed it shot right back out again. "Oh, and don't get any ideas about my daughter."

"She's thirteen," Link said reassuringly, as if being thirteen closed off any possibility whatsoever of a love interest. Still, he felt slightly less comfortable after Boom left than he would have if such a possibility had not been mentioned.

They sat it silence. Fi, whose eyes were fixed darkly on Link, broke it.

"It's easy to forget that there were others on the ship."

"What?"

"The cruise ship. When the Marauders attacked. I mean, it's easy to remember that there were others physically on the ship, but it's impossible to fully grasp the vast amount of pain that occurred on those fateful days, before we were rescued by the Hyrule militia."

Link's eyes went wide. After he moved, he never suspected he would see another person who had gone through what he had. But she was right. It was easy to forget that eighty-seven other souls had suffered at the hands of the gerudo, that eighty-seven other people had loved ones die or had died themselves. It was easy to forget that he was not solitary in his horror.

"I didn't live on Hyrule, like you," she went on, "but I was visiting a friend there. One whom I had met through an interplanetary internet service, and desperately wanted to meet. My dad opposed, but I insisted. And eventually, he gave in, and let me go off-planet. Accompanied by Derek's parents, of course." Her eyes started to water. She tried to blink the tears off, but salty beads were streaming down her cheeks before she could stop them.

"Terrible mistake, was it not?" Link immediately berated himself for such an insensitive reply.

"Yes. Terrible mistake on my part. I never should have wanted to go there, because if I hadn't, Derek's family wouldn't have wanted to treat me to a cruise like that, and then they wouldn't have gone, and they...they wouldn't have died. Every one of them, dead from exhaustion, or malnourishment, or..." She was bawling now, beyond consolation.

"I know," Link said softly, teary-eyed as well. "I know what it's like. Not a day goes by where I don't wonder if there was anything I could have done to discourage my parents from such a vacation. But how could I have known? Now they're dead and I'm alive, and the guilt burdens me." A thought occurred to him. "How did you know I was there as well? Did...did you see me on the ship?"

She turned her gaze aside, reluctant to answer his question.

"Did you?" Link asked again. She shifted her gaze to the other side, dodging his face.

"I did," she finally replied, her breathing unsteady. "You were...used for a demonstration. Of torture devices. Do you remember?"

Link did. He remembered full well being a test subject. That had been his family's job on the ship. While most were laborers, toiling in sweaty rooms all day to do the gerudo's grunt work, he and his parents had been strapped to tables and fed. They were fed all day, not food, but pain. They had pain shoved down their throats to flail about in their stomachs and tear them apart from the inside out. While most had fed the gerudo, the gerudo had fed them, and fed them well. And Link would never be hungry again. "I remember."

"You were dragged out, like a tribute into the Colosseum. And they treated you with everything, from whips to weird...devices, and by the end, you were writhing on the ground, nude and helpless, unable to utter a word other than barbaric screams, and the monster presiding over this whole thing, she told us that if we didn't work the same would happen to us. And I couldn't bear to look at you, but at the same time I couldn't pull my eyes away from you, and you were dragged back into the...oh..." She was trembling violently, now curled into the fetal position upon the desk.

"You...remember me?"

She nodded.

He didn't know what to say. So he found himself recounting experiences, things that he knew she didn't want to hear. Now that she had broken the barrier, opened the Pandora's box, Link could not hold it back. Everything came out in a torrent. "My parents and I...we were all tortured like this. Lab rats for torture. They always tried their..._toys_, as they called them, on my parents first, then fine-tuned them on me. I didn't know why they did it this way, perhaps because I was young and they had some kind of deranged mercy in their hearts that told them that the old should go before the young, but later, I knew why they were doing what they were doing. They..." He choked on his words.

"They what?" She was listening now, intently.

"They had other uses for me. Of course." His voice was bitter; his eyes were furious. "They, a species of females with only one male every generation, would want young bodies upon which to feast, and it fell to me to satisfy their twisted desires."

Fi put a hand over her mouth in shock. "You were molested?"

Link's anger melted into an indistinct puddle of regret. Not that there was anything to regret, as there was nothing he could have done. "Raped. Over and over. I couldn't bear the looks on my parents' faces as they watched hordes of gerudo _leeches_ line up in front of me, my body turned into a brothel for all of them. Yes, I was untied, I could have fought back, but there was always a guard standing nearby with an electric whip in case I made a false move. And I wouldn't just be whipped for resisting, either; I would be whipped if I failed in any way to satiate their desires. And so it was." He was on the verge of screaming. "My parents, forced to watch as I not only succumbed to the rapists, but _participated_. Even now I can feel the fierce hands gripping me, not only enjoying me against my will but forcing me to enjoy them, and punishing me if I didn't. This was my life. Pain and prostitution. Days on end, I couldn't even-"

"Link, Link, be quiet!" Fi was pleading with him. "My dad will hear you."

Link slumped into a chair and tried to calm down, taking shaky breaths. "I'm sorry. I...needed to talk about this. With someone. Not some psychologist, reading responses out of a book about PTSD, but with a real person." His breaths became more stable. "Thank you. Thanks for listening. I haven't...I haven't even discussed this with my older brother at this deep of a level. It was always too painful. He knew about everything, but not from me."

"Do you have dreams about what happened?"

He looked her in the eyes. "Almost every night."

"Me too."

Link got out of his chair and started pacing. His expression began to shift from angry to sad to annoyed, as if it was at a crossroads and couldn't decide which way to go. Eventually, he said, "Where the hell is Boom? Hasn't he found my tablet by now?"

He turned around again, hair whipping about his face, but before he could pace any further he was met by loving arms. Arms that had not loved him before, but rather found love through empathy. He was caught in Fi's embrace, and, finding comfort in the touch, however foreign, he embraced her back. "Thank you, Fi," he said again. "Thank you for listening."

"I'll always be here for you if you want to talk."

He nodded slowly. "And I'll be here for you as well. If you ever want to share your story with me."

"Maybe someday. But today, I think your story is enough for the both of us." She paused, tensing in his arms. "Physical contact doesn't...bother you, does it?"

"A loving embrace doesn't bother me. It isn't the contact itself that matters, but how it is delivered."

"Ah."

They stood content in each other's arms until the door flung open and Boom reappeared. The sound amongst the silence was like a bomb on a peaceful town, causing Fi to yelp and jump away. Boom was standing with Link's tablet in his hand and a solemn expression on his face. Slowly, he approached Link, looking as if he had seen something his daughter had described from a nightmare, only in real life.

When he reached Link, he patted his arm paternally and said, "I found your tablet."


	9. Church

"I knew you would present a good song, as you always do," Rauru said, giving Daniel a friendly slap on the back, "but I never anticipated your expedience. You truly are an asset to this congregation." The church's orchestra was tuning, an orchestra which had practically hired itself after Daniel had acquired a moderate level of fame. Near the back of the church, laymen were filing in cheerily, their spirits and expectations high. Among them, Daniel spotted Link, accompanied by the two friends he had invited, Zelda and Ghirahim. He was anxious to meet Zelda, who seemed to be of special interest to Link, but he had his doubts about Ghirahim. He didn't suspect him of being an unpleasant person; rather, he felt he would be uncomfortable around a person of such infallible wit. Wit paired with a sense of self-derogation, disguised as arrogance, was a mix Daniel was sure would throw him off.

After the church was, for the most part, filled, Rauru turned to Daniel and gave him a thumbs up. "Now?" Daniel asked, surprised that Rauru didn't want to give some sort of greeting first.

Rauru nodded. "Let's just let the music speak this time, shall we?"

"Okay." He stepped up to the podium. He lifted his baton, then watched as the orchestra followed suit with their instruments and the choir did the same with their bodies, creating the optimal wind tunnel for each of their voices. The congregation clapped, but Daniel took no bow, knowing that the glory wasn't his. It was God's, and in this setting, it was always God's. The applause died down. The orchestra began to play.

Link, smiling faintly, waited for his friends to hear just how extraordinary his brother's music was. Sure, they knew that Daniel wrote music, as Link had mentioned his songs time and time again, but now they would find out that Daniel was not just some amateur leader of a garage band; he was accomplished, and Link, though somewhat jealous, was proud of his brother's talents.

"Wow," Zelda exclaimed in a breathy voice. "Your brother wrote this?"

"I know. It's moving. It always is. It puts what I do on the piano to shame. I've tried writing for orchestra, but I could never produce anything like this."

"And the lyrics, too. I, personally, am not a Christian, but I am a poet, and the words are powerful, even for a non-Christian. Or maybe they're just accentuated by the music. Or perhaps I'm especially impressed because he's your brother. I don't know. Anyway, give him my congratulations."

"You can give him your congratulations yourself, you know."

Ghirahim grinned. "It's your chance to meet someone famous! Take it while you can!"

"It's not that kind of famous," Link said cryptically.

"What other kind of famous is there?"

"You're thinking of the 'everybody knows about your personal life, paparazzi's always in your face' kind of famous. This is different. People revere him, not stalk him."

"And how, might I ask, do you know what kind of famous I'm thinking about?"

"I don't need you to tell me what you're thinking if I know how you're thinking."

He shrugged. "True. I can't really argue with that."

Zelda put on an expression of mock surprise. "Ghirahim can't argue with something? That's a first!"

"Bask in the moment while you can, because it might be a last as well." He flashed her a smile.

Somebody behind them tapped Ghirahim on the shoulder. "Could you be a little quieter?" she asked, her voice raspy from age. "I'm trying to listen here."

"Sure, no problem! Quiet's what I do best, you know!" he winked, then turned and complied with her request.

Zelda just sighed and shook her head.

* * *

"We all have our various ways of coping with problems," Rauru said, well into his sermon. Link and Zelda were listening intently, Daniel seated beside them and doing the same. Ghirahim was half asleep.

"But few of us have solutions that strike at the root of the predicament," he continued, glancing at each section of the congregation in turn. "It is common to push our worries 'under the rug,' as is one of the most frequently used phrases in today's society, a setting in which if we did not push things under the rug from time to time, we would die from the stress, at least according to those who live in it. What we need today is not deliberate ignorance, but hope. We need not drop our burdens behind us, promising to pick them up at a later date; rather, we need an extra something to help us bear our burdens. We need God. In ancient days, people used to send such prayers to God every day, prayers pleading for help in a solemn hour. In those times, even if they did not see the work of God's hand directly, they saw how refreshed they felt simply by casting their worries up in such a manner. Pushing something down simply postpones the pain; casting something up provides assurance that the pain will be overcome. Whether, in this cynical age, you believe God is at work in your life does not matter. Simply pray, pray out your troubles, and see the results. It is important to note that to 'pray out' your troubles is not to forget your troubles. Prayer is there to help you through the action, not to replace it. Prayer is there to help you act, not impede your own initiative. Prayer is there to give you the strength needed to change what has gone wrong. Prayer is not just release, but empowerment. And above all, keep this in mind: reassurance is one thing; deliberate ignorance is another. The key to serenity is not remaining calm when you believe all is right, for such a thing is easy, but rather finding peace of mind when you believe all is awry, especially through prayer and through trust in God. Knowledge of the truth should not be sacrificed for the sake of temporary happiness. Permanent happiness comes from changing that truth for the better, not dismissing it."

Daniel was smiling broadly; yet at the same time, he had tears streaming down his face. Link couldn't figure out why.


	10. Freedom Fighters

Ms. Maxwell sat at her terminal, preparing her lesson for the next day. She did so with pride, as her class was well into the first unit while other teachers were still dawdling somewhere among introductory grounds. Often, she wondered if she was being pretentious simply by harboring such pride; but, nevertheless, she enjoyed being the furthest ahead, educating the brightest students, inspiring the deepest thoughts.

So she enjoyed planning her lessons. She considered her pride the guilty pleasure of the job, not spawned out a natural love of history, which she no doubt also had, but out of a sort of progressive conceit. Did she consider herself above the other teachers? Not admittedly, for outward arrogance of that kind would be bitterly received by both her colleagues and herself, especially seeing as she was significantly younger than most at the fresh age of twenty-six as well as significantly newer to the profession. Nevertheless, her natural tendency was to act as such, and often such behavior led her to misfortune.

But as her mind narrowed to fit her task, in that solitary moment, she soon forgot all arrogance and became thoroughly engaged with the subject matter itself, settling against her will, yet much to her benefit, into a state of mental flow.

Unfortunately, that flow was soon interrupted by another presence, that of an unwelcome application taking dominance over her terminal. The screen went blank, a solid wall of black, permeated only by faint green text portraying a single word: _Salutations__.__  
_

"Oh, I hope to God I don't have a virus," she mused to herself, trying to find a way to close it. But nothing she did had any effect on her computer. She danced her fingers over the keyboard, but the single word remained.

Soon, however, Ms. Maxwell's face went white as she realized that something did have an effect on her computer's state, that being her voice. _By all definitions of the word, this is a virus, I'm sorry to say. If it's any comfort, I do promise you that your computer will be returned to its natural state when we are finished.__  
_

"Finished with what?" she questioned, her eyes darting about in apprehension. She crossed her arms and leaned inward a little bit, as if trying to hide something.

_Link was right, you know._

"Link who?"

_Link, who is in your class. The boy had a heated debate with you on the first day of school, if you remember, Holly Beatrice Maxwell._

She nearly screamed. How did this person, or program, or whatever form of monstrosity this may be, have possession of her full name, as well as knowledge of her conversation with Link on that day?

_Do not be alarmed. Our eyes and ears are your computer's. You, having such extensive knowledge of the Privacy Crises of 2013, 2327, and 2489, should know full well that anyone near active technology is not alone._

"Then I should be more cautious," she said, sitting up straight with an air of hostility; and not the heated kind of hostility, but the cold kind, the persuasive sort which is the mark of a seasoned diplomat; though well-read might have been a more suitable word for Maxwell than seasoned. "Perhaps I should switch my computer off now, and not turn it on until this problem is dealt with."

_Are you trying to blackmail me into explaining myself? I would advise against that on the grounds that I have nothing to lose in my current position. Your cooperation, though desirable, is not necessary to the well being of our organization. You, on the other hand, have much to lose, and by blackmailing me you give me the rights to do the very same to you. Now, let's see how you like a taste of your own medicine. That hard drive of yours is vulnerable, and if that isn't enough incentive, so is every other hard drive on which you've saved a file. Civilian firewalls mean nothing to us. The end of the age of pencil and paper is the dawning of a new sort of power._

Holly gasped, immediately regretting her attempt to take advantage of such feeble leverage. She realized she was like a small child threatening to beat up the playground bully, who was a foot taller than and twice the weight of everyone else in the yard. She knew diplomacy, but only textbook diplomacy, and her first attempt at such an endeavor in real life had left her weak, helpless, and lacking any of the arrogance that had so dominated her psyche just a few minutes ago. "Then tell me what you want and I'll cooperate. I can't say that I'll give you what you want, but I'll negotiate without...aggressive forms of persuasion."

_Thank you, though that will indubitably benefit yourself more than it will benefit us._

"You mentioned Link. Does this have anything to do with Link?"

_This does not involve him in any practical regard. However, I mentioned him for the principles which he brought to your awareness. Tell me, what did you learn that day?_

"Well, I realized that the U.I.R. Constitution might not be so supportive of liberties as I had previously imagined."

_And what might you infer about us from our support of that hypothesis?_

Holly, though biased by an emotional state in which any assertions might be dubious, saw a harsh satire of her methods as a teacher in that archetypal question. Pride seeping back into her veins, she made a deliberate effort to answer in the most casual way possible without blowing her persona: "You don't like the government."

_No, we don't. In fact, we don't like it so much that we conspire against it and hope to someday reveal ourselves in open rebellion._

"Don't you think that open rebellion is a bit extreme? Surely you can find a way to petition them, directly or indirectly."

_That was our goal, in the earliest stages of our existence. We used to constantly draft new constitutions and propose them under the names of different individual members. All of them were rejected in full, without any explanation as to why. Our goal was to clarify the ambiguous language and close the loopholes that granted unnecessary executive power to the Hylian Matriarchy, and we were rewarded with military occupation of all the planets on which resided those members under whose names the documents were submitted. The government would never admit that such was the reason, though. It was always something within the private constitution of that planet that was legally recorded as the reason for occupation, deemed as fitting within the vague category of 'inhumane or unjust.' Inhumane or unjust my ass, Hylian Matriarchy._

Holly was taken aback by the sudden change in tone. "The article in the constitution about inhumane or unjust regulations in subordinate constitutions is merely a safeguard. A contingency plan for when the letter of the law fails."

_That's what you want to believe because you don't think anybody can successfully overthrow the Matriarchy. You believe they are too powerful and therefore we must comply with their will._

"Why, that's not what I think at all! The Matriarchy wants maximum freedom and maximum justice, without superfluous sacrifice of either."

_Do not lie to yourself. You consciously know that the Matriarchy has only used democracy as a veil, meanwhile skewing the Constitution to give itself absolute power. You've seen it yourself. It was brought to your awareness both by your students and by your own reasoning. Now I have a question to ask you: will you help us fight this unequal distribution of power? Will you help promote democracy?_

Holly was nervous. She was afraid that if she refused, she would see her world fall apart, and that if she accepted, she would see her world change in ways so unexpected she could not make an educated decision at the present moment. She knew, in the depths of her soul, that the enigma speaking to her was correct in principle, and she had known for some time, though she would not confess it. However, she had no way of knowing that their cause would do what it claimed to. She could be talking to Patrick Henry or Joseph Lenin. From what she had heard, how could she tell which? Taking the safer option, out of the fear that Lenin was sitting at the other terminal, trying to coerce her into something terrible, she declined. "I'm sorry," she said, "but I cannot accept with so little information."

There was no response for some time. Holly gripped her seat, every muscle in her body tense with fear. She felt as if she were under the gaze of a wrathful God, who could choose to exercise his mercy or to smite her on a whim. Finally, words appeared.

_Very well, then. I'm sorry I even tried to convince you. If I had known you were so obstinate about your faith in the Hylian Matriarchy, this never would have happened. But, alas, you know too much._

Holly barely felt the sting of the tranquilizer dart before she fell into a state of unconsciousness.


End file.
